Never Far Behind
by Sora no Kioku's old account
Summary: Toothcup. Dedicated to Jyuudaime. 3 Hiccup has these weird dreams. At first, he thinks nothing of them. Then he stumbles upon a dragon, but never sees it again. The next day, he runs into someone who seems oddly familiar... Possibly discontinued.


His fingers tightly gripped the small knife in his hands. He forced them to relax, but it was futile. They returned to their tensed state just as quickly as they had relaxed. In another attempt to steady his breathing, he sucked in a large amount of air and tilted back his head, rotating it just as he did his shoulders. He had to loosen the tension if he was going to do this. His eyes closed, he found himself whispering, "I'm a viking." Why he was saying this, he wasn't sure. He felt as if he were trying to convince himself. It was almost as if he didn't believe the words escaping from his lips. Still, he allowed his eyes to open as his mouth opened wider before so he could shout the words once more. "I'm a VIKING!" As the words echoed throughout the forest, his hands went to his sides and his eyes focused solely on the green ones staring up at him. This large beast, which he had shot down only a few hours ago, was pleading for him not to strike; to spare it's life so it could life just as it had before that fateful night. He could hear the groan come from the beast caught in his trap, but dismissed it. This _thing_ was at his mercy now. He clasped the knife in both hands just as he did before, the blade still facing the large body in front of him. Joining the two hands together at the hilt o the dagger, he took in a few deep breaths and let them out, his facial expression twisting into that of concentration and determination.

Taking in another breath, he lifted the deadly weapon above his head. He found himself hesitating once more. The sounds of the forest were lost to him as his eyes focused on the creature's face once more. Its eyes were wide, its pupils dilated and staring directly at him. The breath escaping from the slits on the top of the nose signified just how afraid the beast was, the beast's eyes widening even more. Its head tilted to get a better look at the human. No, the hunter. Its soon-to-be killer. The brown-haired boy found himself hesitating once more, actually taking into consideration that the thing he had shot down truly had its own thinking process and emotions; something he was taught differently about. Still, that didn't stop him. Even though his arms had previously slackened, they raised high above his head once more. A sound escaped from the black beast's throat and a soft _thump_ came to the boy's ears. Had he given up and came to accept his fate...? The simple thought alone was enough to cause the small human to hesitate once more and drop his head, gritting his teeth together. He let out a groan and tried once again to plunge the blade deep within the animal's scaly hide.

He couldn't do it.

His chin dropped towards his chest as his arms finally gave out, resting the hilt of the dagger on the top of his head. He just... He couldn't take this thing's life. He knew very well that anyone else from his village wouldn't even hesitate the slightest bit. He knew that the thing would be dead by now. But, he was different than all the others, wasn't he? Yes, he had always been different... He cursed that sole fact and the reason he came out here was solely based around that. He wanted to prove to his village that he was one of them, that he wasn't going to just be useless forever. And yet...

His eyes opened as his right hand, now loosely gripping his weapon, dropped to his side, his other hand running over his cheek. His eyebrows had drawn together, his gaze focused on nothing in particular at first. They soon focused, however, on the knife in his hand, his grip loosening even more. And to think he almost killed the beast before him with it. He didn't let his thoughts (or gaze) linger on the knife for too long and they soon drifted to the trapped beast before him. This was actually the first time he had realized just what he had done. He hadn't fully assessed the situation just yet. But now, he could see it. The rope was tightly wrapped around the wings, the legs, the neck, the body. Everything was tightly wrapped and tangled and held down by heavy stones that even he had trouble lifting. His feet moved on his own, backing away from the thing he had captured. "I did this..." he came to realize. He felt so proud before, but now, he didn't know what to feel.

His body turned and he was ready to just leave it where it lay. He planned on heading back to the village, telling them that he couldn't find the dragon. But something stopped him. He didn't know what to was,but he couldn't bring himself to just leave it helpless like this. Looking over his shoulder, he surveyed his doings once again. A sigh escaped from his nose and lips and before he even knew what he was doing, he was at the beast's side and hacking away at the ropes that bound it. One snapped. Only a few more to go. He could see the dragon moving, knowing very well that it was anticipating the moment when it was free. There. Another one gone. And now another. Soon, he found out he didn't have to cut all of the ropes. They were slackening on their own just by him cutting only a few. What happened next came as a complete surprise and his brain hardly registered what was happening.

One moment, he was sitting there and cutting away at ropes. The next, they were lying useless on the ground and he could only see a clawed paw pressing down on his chest and neck. He could feel grass beneath his fingers and the back of his head felt as if it were on fire. His breath escaped in ragged gasps, his expression twisted into complete and utter fear. This was it. This was the end of him. Despite the current threat of the sharp claws that could easily dig into the soft flesh of his throat, he dared to cast a glance upward. He was instantly met by eyes staring straight back at him, as if daring him to make a move. He could only try to cower against the rock, trying to get away from the beast above him. Oh, how the tables had turned... He was the hunter, and now he was the hunted. Or at least, that's what he thought until his brain finally recognized that he wasn't dead yet. Not only that, but he could... see _something_ within those eyes. The growling was threatening, yes, but those eyes, they almost seemed to tell him that the beast wasn't planning on killing him.

No, maybe he mistook it. He could feel the pressure on his chest grow as the beast raised and its mouth opened to show sharp teeth ready to dig into its next meal, the wings expanding just to show how large it was compared to him. He prepared himself for the strike, prepared himself for when everything would end. And just when he thought it was all over, the pressure on his chest disappeared and he heard-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Green eyes instantly snapped open at the annoying sound reaching his eardrums. Hazy images of what he had just seen floated through his mind as he sat up in his bed with a groan. Another Saturday... Why did he have to wake up at eleven in the morning again? Oh right. The college courses he took... In order to shut up the nuisance echoing through his room and probably part of the hallway just out his door, he reached over and gave the top of the device a slap, instantly shutting if off. Well, at least that was one thing done for the day... Though he was quite slow in doing so, he pulled himself out of bed and strode over to the closet, throwing random articles of clothing onto his bed. He knew that he could've just went through the clothes that littered his bedroom floor, but decided it was probably best that he didn't wear those until they were cleaned. He was, after all, a rather normal teenager and tended to test out the invention of the horizontal closet. Of course, his father never approved of this, but the man had given up trying to get the boy to clean his room only a few years ago. Despite this, the boy did make sure to clean his room whenever he felt it needed the cleaning.

Nevertheless, the teenager quickly changed into his everyday clothing. This merely consisted of a simple green shirt and a pair of jeans, something he found to fit him and his personality quite well. He usually chose such simple clothes to avoid any unnecessary attention and to avoid having to decide between one shirt or the other. Not only that, but he was just not interested in buying shirts with designs, unlike other teenager boys of this generation who loved to wear shirts with skulls, names of their favorite bands, random logos, or some other design that was deemed as 'cool' by their peers and so-called 'friends'. He was more drawn to the plain shirts and just a simple pair of jean pants or shorts. He didn't have the patience to bother with such petty things such as style, even if he had to sew it himself most of the time. And so, he had easily chosen his outfit. Though it was growing nearer to summer, he didn't even bother to throw on the usual short-sleeve shirt and opted for the longer-sleeved shirt he randomly pulled out from the depths of his closet. Very little time was spent taking off the sweat pants and replacing them with the jeans, soon covering his bare torso with the shirt he previously threw on his bed.

After that was done, he traveled out of his room and down the very short hallway (only his bedroom and a bathroom were on the top floor), jogging down the steps to alert his father that he was indeed awake and didn't need to be awoken. However, once he reached the landing, he quickly turned and headed back up the stairs. The reason? His mother's voice had reached his ears as soon as he stepped off the last stair, telling him that his hair was a mess and that he should probably fix it. The voice echoed through his head as he threw open the bathroom door and waltzed inside, grabbing the brush from the counter top. Yes, his hair was longer than most boys' hair, so he found that brushing it was a lot easier than combing it. Surprisingly, he found that his hair was indeed a mess. Not that he didn't doubt his mother's words, but it was the fact that- His thoughts were instantly caught off as he heard a booming voice from downstairs, calling his name. Instantly, he recognized it as his father's.

"I didn't expect you to be up already!"

As he ran the brush through his hair, he could hear thundering footsteps pound up the stairs. They were definitely much louder than his own footsteps... Maybe he should've put on some shoes. At least then it'd make a bit more sound than just his bare feet. He did have light steps most of the time. That is, when he actually didn't have shoes on. He sighed and shook his head, letting the wooden object in his hand lower to the counter top. "I have class today!" he called back. He figured this would be answer enough and his eyes merely flicked to the side when he saw a large figure block his way out of the bathroom. His fingers released the wooden brush and he let them do the work of parting his bangs. There. At least they weren't going to be completely in his eyes now.

"No you don't." One glance at the man in the doorway told the much smaller boy that the other was definitely confused. "Today's the start of summer vacation. Even the college said they'd be taking the break."

Oh. Right. He had forgotten about that. Great, now he learned he got up for nothing. Summer vacations were meant to be for staying up late and therefore sleeping in late. Definitely not waking up early and getting ready for the day. "Then I'm just going for a walk," he replied without missing a beat. Ah, of course. He always found himself going out for walks. They seemed to calm him and gave him time to himself. He could easily just wander off and think for hours, and yet somehow never get lost at the same time, even if he traveled through the woods not too far from his house. He turned his attention to the man easily three times his size to see that his answer was just as good as any other, seeing the end of a short nod. With that, the man left the boy alone in the room and headed his own direction. From the sounds of it, it was down the stairs and into the kitchen.

At least he had some time alone now. He knew very well that if he weren't left alone, then he'd end up getting into topics he definitely didn't want to discuss. Especially not so early in the day. He knew that if he did discuss those topics, then he would spend the rest of the day thinking about them and possibly even beating himself up over them. Deciding it was best not to dwell on it for too long, he dismissed the thought and left the bathroom, wandering back to his own room. He made sure his footsteps would be light enough so that he could hear every little sound that came from downstairs, leaving his door open in order to help with this. He could hear his father messing around with things in the kitchen (no doubt making some toast or some other type of breakfast) and then continue to wander around the first floor of the small house. Looks like he, too, was getting ready for the day... The small brunet boy gathered his messenger bag's straps in his hand and tossed it onto the bed, knowing very well that it was empty so far. He usually took it with him when he walked just in case he wanted to stop and doodle something or just have something to eat. It was just a simple, small brown messenger bag he just threw over his shoulder and carried for the rest of the day. Continuing with his preparations, he grabbed his leather-bound sketchbook and carefully slid it inside of the bag, grabbing a few drawing utensils as well. (This included a normal number 2 pencil, a few different drawing pencils, a charcoal pen, a pen for inking lines, a ball-point pen, and a few different erasers.) He dumped all the utensils into a small pouch from his desk, depositing it into the messenger bag with his sketchbook. That should do for now. That is, until he could go downstairs and not be questioned as to whether or not he was running away. (Because he tended to pack some food as well, his father would ask him if he were planning on running away. To avoid that, he would just sit and wait until his father was no longer at home before he even thought about gathering food and a bottle of water.)

He paused just so he could hear what his father was doing, straining his ears to hear even the slightest of sounds. Nothing. That was odd... Usually the man couldn't sit still and would always just wander around downstairs until he left. Tiptoeing closer to his door, he placed his hands on the door frame and carefully peered out into the hallway, his eyes scanning for any signs of the large man. He nearly jumped as he heard the sound of the front door echoing through the house. Of course he wouldn't tell him when he was leaving. He never did. The man always announced it by slamming the front door closed, not even bothering to speak a single syllable. Letting out a gentle sigh, the teenager pushed himself away from the door frame and crossed his room, quickly snatching up his bag and jogging out the bedroom door and down the stairs. Though he had nearly slipped on the way down, he managed to make it to the bottom floor quite safely. With the bag slung over his left shoulder, he headed into the empty kitchen. Save for the sound of the refrigerator door opening, the whole house was silent. Just as he was used to. He pulled out a few snacks for himself and tossed it into the bag. He was about to close it, but paused as he noticed the leftover meat from last night's dinner. Two full steaks were sitting there on a plate covered in saran wrap. Considering how his father hadn't taken them to work with him, he had forgotten about them. So what was the harm in bringing it? The next few minutes were spent moving the pieces of steak into a closed container, snapping the lid shut. He didn't really mind eating food cold, so he just placed the bowl inside of his bag. He quickly grabbed out a metallic bottle from the cupboard and filled it with water, screwing on the top and storing it in a special pocket on the side of his backpack. There. That would work.

With that done, he slipped the bag back onto his shoulder and headed into the living room, quickly slipping on his moccasins; another item he had actually sewn together on his own. He was about to leave, but then another crucial thing came to mind; a way to protect himself in case things went wrong. He knew very well just what type of people wandered the woods sometimes. He snatched up the brown belt from the coffee table and fastened it around his waist, sliding in the switchblade located just next to where the belt was before. Now he knew he was ready. With everything in its rightful place, he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and headed out the back door. Though he at first had to squint at the early afternoon rays that shone down upon him, he focused on the forest only about a mile away. He lived in this house ever since he could remember and yet the sight of the forest-covered mountains just beyond a portion of the forest still took his breath away. He believed that no matter how long he lived there, he'd still be captivated by such a sight. After his eyes had adjusted, he began his journey through the woods he explored just about every single day.

[...~ ~...]

He definitely didn't know how long he had been out for. He thought that he wouldn't get lost at all, but after he had run into a bear a few hours ago, those plans had been ruined. He didn't even think about it before he began to run away, knowing very well he wouldn't have been able to take on a full grown bear. Thankfully, the bear hadn't followed him, but the sun was already beginning to set and he knew very well that he was far from home. He could tell by how his legs felt as if they were on fire. Now, keep in mind that yes, he may be one of the scrawniest boys in his class, but he certainly knew how to run. A small body truly did have its advantages, after all. But this time, he wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that he was able to run far. He couldn't find a single recognizable landmark. Even the sound of the river he knew ran through the forest was completely lost. Despite not even having a single clue about where he was, he remained as calm as he possibly could and instead tried his hardest to search for any signs of the way out of the forest.

So now here he was, wandering around the forest as the sun threatened to disappear over the mountains that now took up the whole horizon around him. Nervous green eyes carefully watched the skies only to find a few stars peek out. This definitely wasn't helping him at all... Just where was he? He ignored his aching feet and throbbing legs as he pushed himself forward, pushing away low-hanging branches with calloused hands. His breath came in heavy exhales and inhales as an attempt to keep his heart from racing. His eyes continued to scan the darkening spaces between the large evergreen trees populating the forest. It wasn't long until he could see a dim light shining through those same trees. At first, he was hesitant about it. What if he was just hallucinating? What if it wasn't real? He could very possibly just be going crazy or delirious. He could just be wishing that there was some type of light to help him to safety. It could be just light from the sunset reflecting off of something like a lake in order to play tricks on his eyes. Hell, there was the possibility that the light could be a camp fire from some people he would otherwise want to avoid at all costs.

He shoved the thoughts aside as his feet began to move on their own. Slowly, slowly... Don't go too fast. Great. Now he was nearly jogging. So much for trying to convince himself to be careful... Why couldn't he just ever listen to his gut feeling? The light became brighter as he neared it and he soon discovered that it was in fact not an illusion or a reflection. The way it was steady and constant made him realize that this light was actually something manmade, such as a light bulb. He slowed as he neared it. Now he could hear voices. He couldn't pick out what exactly they were saying, but there was no denying it. Those were human voices. At least two or three different people were talking. He lightened his steps and made sure to stay in the shadows upon seeing the source of the light. "There's a building way out here?" he whispered softly, knowing very well that he was the only one who could hear it. His breath hitched as he heard a small groan, followed by a hiss and growl. Okay, now _that_ wasn't human. It was far from it, he knew. But then what was it? It didn't sound like any other animal he had ever encountered before. Figuring that he was close enough to the small clearing, he pressed himself against one of the trees, carefully peering around it.

Ah, yes. Now he could see it. There were two parts to it. One part was completely made of wood with a small porch in the front. Just by a quick examination, he could tell that this was something like a cabin or a house. It may have been small, but he knew what a house looked like when he saw it. The voices he heard earlier were no doubt coming from there. He allowed his eyes to drift to the larger building just next to it, curiosity rising up within him. This one was much different... It seemed to be completely made of steel or some other type of metal. Judging by the size and depth of the dents that decorated the outside of it, the building was built to be sturdy, though it made the teenager wonder exactly what it was used for. Maybe he could just-

His eyes widened as he felt a large hand clasp over his mouth and a strong arm lift his feet off the ground by his waist. Next thing he knew, there was a sharp pain on the back of his head and the world around him grew black within a matter of seconds. At first, he felt absolutely nothing. He couldn't even feel the slightest of breezes on his skin. But as the cloudiness that fogged his mind dissipated, he could feel some sort of source of heat. Next came the faraway crackling of a fire and the sound of muffled voices speaking in some type of language. He could feel that he was lying on his side and he was on something soft. A bed, maybe? No. Beds didn't have this kind of feel to them. He was laying on cushions. He could tell that much. Despite his mind screaming at him that he shouldn't, he allowed his eyes to open. The images of a flickering fire, a small loveseat, wooden walls, a small carpet, and quite a few portraits and other decorations came to him. At first, with how hazy his mind was, he thought that it was merely just a dream, but as he came to find out, it wasn't a dream. If it was, then he wouldn't have a throbbing pain on the back of his head. Pain usually woke people up, right?

His thought process was interrupted as his arms moved on their own, pushing him into a sitting position. He jumped at the feeling of something falling around his waist and onto his legs, looking down to see it was only just a blanket. He relaxed at this and leaned back against the back of the couch, looking around carefully. Just where was he, anyway? He couldn't recognize even a single aspect of the room he was in. Or at least, not enough to the point that he could pick out who's house he was at. He turned his head at the sound of a door opening and closing, standing as his eyes fell upon the man walking towards him. He reached down towards his belt to find that his knife was missing and quickly began to pat his hips, looking down in order to try to find it. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening! He didn't even know the man approaching him. He must've had some way to defend himself, right? His breath hitched as his gaze fell onto another pair of shoes, his body locking up. The only thing he could do is look up towards whoever the feet belonged to. When he felt hands on his shoulders, he shoved the man away and stumbled back. He was surprised that the man, too, had stepped back, but the man showed no signs of falling over even the slightest bit. Not even a stumble appeared in the man's step.

"Calm down. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Despite those words, the teenager remained tense and eyed the stranger cautiously. He didn't mean to be so hesitant and questioning, but he couldn't get it out of his mind. He clearly remembered being grabbed and knocked out. He could tell that he had the bump to prove that. The stranger seemed to have easily picked up on this and the teen's eyes carefully watched his next moves. To his surprise, the man's hand had wandered down to the coffee table where a bag, belt, and knife were all lying on. The knife was the first thing to be grabbed and instantly, his shoulders tensed. Was this man trying to use his own weapon against him? No, he wasn't... The boy instantly reacted at the sight of the knife being tossed towards him, fumbling a bit before he actually caught it, tightly grasping the collapsible weapon in both hands. "Why'd you give this back to me?" He spoke without really thinking about it. He could sense the confusion etched deeply within the tones of his voice. No doubt his facial expression reflected that same emotion. He could feel his muscles relaxing just at the feel of the cool metal between his fingers, even though his sight remained trained on the stranger.

The man shrugged as he collected the belt and tossed it to the brunet, allowing him to actually put it on and slip the knife inside. "Figured you'd trust me if I was the one who gave you your knife back," he replied. He then motioned to one of the couches. "Go on, sit down. We won't bite. Consider yourself a visitor."

Despite the voice in his head telling him to just grab his stuff and run, he obeyed the man's word and carefully made his way back to the couch. As if sensing just how uncomfortable the 'visitor' was, the man backed away and sat on the opposite couch. Unknowingly resting his hand on the knife around his waist, the smaller one made his way to the couch he was previously sleeping on. He sat down with his knees together, straining his ears for any other type of sounds. He could hear something far off, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He dismissed this, but then another thought came to him. He didn't allow his usual quiet and shy nature to take hold of him just so he could figure out the answer to the question in his mind. "Why did you attack me earlier if I'm a visitor?" he finally spoke. There. It was out now.

At first, there was nothing but silence. The two merely just stared at each other, one of which looking surprised and the other growing more and more nervous. Finally, the man in question let out a laugh and leaned back against the couch. While one hand was on his knee, the other was neatly folded on his stomach. His whole expression turned into that of amusement, even when his laughter died down to only an amused smile. "We've been having a little thief sneak into our home recently. It's been going on for about a month now. Baldur thought that you were our little thief. I'm sorry, I should have told him what the thief looked like. I didn't even think about it. So what brings you out here... um...?"

"Hiccup," the boy answered for the man. Before he could continue, he could hear a small 'Sindri' coming from the man's lips. So that was his name... Or at least, that's what Hiccup could guess. "A bear decided it didn't like me too much."

"That would explain it, then. You didn't pack very many things, especially not for a few days' trip." He leaned back against the couch once more, folding his hands over his stomach. "You're pretty far from any town around here. It usually takes people days to get this far."

"Yeah, so much for staying close to the path... Wait." His expression turned into that of skepticism. "You went through my bag?"

The man chuckled as he shook his head. "Hey, don't worry. Nothing's missing. We had to make sure you weren't working with our little thief. You can check to see if everything's there, if you like."

Hiccup did just that. He didn't even hesitate to pulled his bag onto his lap and toss back the flap, pulling apart both sides so he could look inside it. It _looked_ like everything was there. Then again, he couldn't be 100% sure. He began to sort through everything within, making a mental checklist as he went along. Steaks? Check. Water? Check. Sketchbook? Check. Pencil bag? Check. Looks like everything truly was there. Feeling a lot more relaxed now, he flipped the flap back over and let the bag rest on his lap, his eyes lifting once more so he could focus on the unnamed man. Now that his mind was clear and he was relaxing, he could now focus on who exactly he was talking to. By the looks of it, Sindri wasn't any older than 25. His hair was very short-cropped and seemed like it was shaved to be that way, almost like a military cut. No signs of balding could be seen and short sideburns decorated the side of his face. He wore a simple pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. There were only a few scars on the man's arms (which, as Hiccup noted, were actually well-toned), but none seemed to be from anything too serious. With Sindri's position and facial expression, Hiccup could tell that he meant no threat.

He felt himself relaxing even more, but he knew he couldn't stay here for long. He stood up with a sigh and pulled his bag strap onto his shoulder, adjusting it a bit just so that it would hang comfortably. He ignored the fact that the stranger's smile had faded and instead focused on what he needed to say. "Sorry, but I have to go. I have, uh, stuff I need to do. And... Yeah, I'll just go now," he said as he quickly made his way towards the first door he saw. Judging by the window next to it, it was the way out. He paused, however, as he heard a voice behind him, asking him if he'd rather stay the night and allow them to take him back to the city.

"It's pretty far out there. You won't make it until late tomorrow. And that's if you don't run and actually know where you're going," he heard.

He gritted his teeth at this fact. Damn... He couldn't sleep out in the woods. They were way too dangerous at night. He remained silent as an internal debate formed within his mind, both sides battling for the spotlight. After a few moments of this, he gave in to the offer and wandered back to the couch, dropping his bag next to him as he sat down once more. "Sure, I'll stay for the night." These words, though at first they seemed fluid and smooth, were actually very hard for the teenager to say. He was used to sleeping in his own bed in his own home. He was definitely not used to staying at someone else's house. He could even hear his thoughts scolding him and telling him it was wrong to stay at a stranger's house.

Still, Sindri seemed pleased with this answer and the man stood up, walking past Hiccup. He gave a firm pat on the boy's shoulders as he walked towards one of the doors. "Good. I'll go talk to Baldur about making dinner," the man said before he disappeared into the other room.

Not too long after and the brunet could hear voices from the other side. They were muffled at first and it took a bit for his ears to actually adjust to the quiet sounds, but he could definitely hear the words within time. It wasn't English, as he soon realized, but he still knew what it was, nonetheless. It was the language he, too, was fluent in. The same language he grew up speaking.

"Hann er ekki að gefa einhverjar vísbendingar á öllum. Hann er alveg ómeðvituð. " ("He isn't giving any hints at all. He's completely oblivious.")

"Hvernig veistu það?" ("How do you know that?")

"Hann er bara barn." ("He's just a child.")

"Sem _annt_? Við þurfum að halda lítil. Við getum ekki gert það ef hann fann út að við erum húsnæði sem hlutur. Hann mun segja aðrir, Sindri." ("Who _cares_? We need to keep low. We can't do that if he found out we're housing that thing. He'll tell others, Sindri.")

"Þá hvað þú býst við að gera?" ("Then what do you suppose we do?")

"Drepa hann. Einfalt er það. Við munum gera það líta út eins og eitthvað í skóginum fengum við hann." ("Kill him. Simple as that. We'll make it look like something in the forest got to him.")

Next thing he knew, Hiccup's bag was over his shoulder and he was standing. He made sure to be as quiet as he could as he quickly made his way to his only escape. There was no way he was being killed, especially not now. He was way too young. He was finally headed somewhere in life. Hell, he was even taking college courses and doing what he loved! It was way too early to just give up now. Just as he swung open the back door, he heard another door open. Not a moment later and he could hear someone shouting his name. He didn't even have to look to know that it was Sindri, even though he ended up looking anyway when he turned around and slammed the door behind him. Only one thing ran through his mind. _Run_. He could hear more voices now, all of them approaching the door. He made sure his feet would hesitate no longer and he sprinted away from the door, taking a sharp turn so that he wedged himself between the two buildings. His shoulders bumped the sides of the buildings as he sped down the narrow passageway. At least now he knew he'd be one of the few able to fit in there. As long as there weren't any children around, then he'd be fine here, right?

His breath hitched at the sound of footsteps coming from both behind and in front of him. They were nearing the passageway from both sides. He stopped when he came to the middle, looking over his shoulder and then looking back towards the front again. He didn't even have to think about it for very long. He crashed down onto his knees and pulled out his knife, flipping it open. He worked quickly, wedging the tip between the wall and the bolts, prying the bolts out of their places and letting them fall to the ground. The voices were closer now. He could hear them shout all around him. They hadn't found where he was hiding yet, but they knew he was very close. He made sure to pay attention to the words that reached his ears, even if he hadn't heard that language from anyone else in a few years. Finally, he pulled out his last bolt. This would probably make a hole big enough for him to crawl through. Or at least, that's what he hoped. Forcing the blade between the two sheets of metal, he pried it back and bent it just enough so that he could fit his whole body through, first sticking his head through the gap to make sure that there was no one within the building he planned on hiding in for now. He could see crates piled high, but he couldn't see any sign of men within. But judging on how the lights were off, there was no one here yet. After he folded his knife and set it back into its place, he slid the bag off his shoulder and pushed it through the gap. He followed soon after it, trying his best at bending the metal sheet back into place so no one would notice where he had escaped to.

With that done, he pulled the bag strap back onto his shoulder and carefully backed away from the hole. He couldn't go far, however, and soon found out this fact upon feeling wooden against his back. At first, he jumped at the feeling, but instantly forced himself to calm down once he realized that it was just a crate. He glanced around once more to make sure that he was more or less hidden by the crates, forcing his breathing and his muscles to relax at the sight of the crates all around him. Okay, so now he knew that he was at least enclosed in this small circle, but at least he could see a stack of crates that would help him climb over the wall. He leaned back against the crate and strained his ears. He could still hear shouts. They were still looking for him... He nervously gripped the strap in his hand, wringing it as he held it so tight that he was sure his knuckles would turn white. '_Calm down, Hiccup_,' he silently pleaded. '_You're safe now. You're good. They're out there. They won't find you for a while. Shit! What was that?_'

He jumped at the sound of a deep growl, pushing his back away from the crate and looking around with wide eyes. It was that same sound, he could tell. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but he knew now that it was inside of the same building he was using as a hiding spot. The heavy breathing that he noticed afterward caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. It almost sounded like a horse breathing. But how was that possible? He was pretty damn sure he just heard a _growl_. He pushed himself up from his sitting position and silently shuffled towards the makeshift ladder of crates. He would have to do this quietly, he knew. If he didn't, then there was a chance that whatever was in here was on their side. And if it was on their side... He shivered at the mere thought of what would happen. Still, he pushed on and forced his body to move. Slowly, he ascended the 'staircase' on his hands and knees. Once he neared the top, he peered over and let his eyes scan the room before him. In the dim moonlight shining through the various small windows located at the top of the building, he could see vague outlines of crates on the other side. Seems like most of this place was just surrounded with crates, leaving only one escape; the large door just to the left of him. This was definitely a lot larger than what it looked like on the outside, he came to realize.

However, all thoughts ceased as his eyes landed on a large form in the middle of the clearing. His breathing now halted, he strained his eyes in a futile attempt to recognize exactly what it was. This clearly wasn't going too well, though he did know enough that it didn't move. But that only meant that it either chose not to move or just couldn't move. He decided to test his theory. He was already a dead man, anyway... Or at least, in his mind, he was. Even if he escaped from here, he would have no way home. He didn't even know where he was and he certainly didn't bring enough food and water for even a night. Not only that, but he knew well just how cold the forest could become at night, even with no cloud coverage. He shoved these thoughts aside as he slowly pulled himself up onto the crate so that his chest and stomach were now pressed against the top. With that done, he carefully and quietly tugged his bag next to him, his eyes watching the shadowy figure just below. As his hand reached into the depths, his mind whirred with thoughts of what it possibly could be. His mind couldn't think of anything that looked even close to the form he saw. Well, that is, anything that was a real animal. He withdrew the small pencil pouch from within his messenger bag, putting it next to him. He did his best to stay as quiet as he could as he unzipped it and slid his hand inside. Upon feeling his fingertips brushing across a glossy coating, he withdrew his item of choice. He knew he wouldn't miss a single number 2 pencil. And with that sole thought, he moved it to his left hand and chucked it across it the room.

The pencil dully hit against the crate on the other side and then clattered to the floor. Despite how small it was, the sound it made was enough to echo through the large room and reach both pairs of ears. Movement. He found himself pulling himself away from the source of the movement as the thing below began to shift. However, it soon let out a deep groan and huff before the sound of something large hitting cement reached Hiccup's ears. So that settled it. This thing, whatever it was, couldn't move. He steadied his breathing and slid his pouch back into its rightful place, carefully pushing himself into a sitting position. He strained his ears for any signs of voices, but to his surprise and relief, he didn't hear anything at all. Well, save for the breathing of the thing on the ground... He took this as an opportunity to see if it was truly unable to move. Without giving it a second thought, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his fingers pressed against the wooden box he now kneeled upon. The sound once again reverberated throughout the room, though it was much louder than the pencil. His breath hitched as there was once again movement, but it seemed constricted. That's when he drew his final conclusion.

It couldn't move.

Feeling confident enough now, he moved his legs in front of him and slid his way over to the other side of the crate, glancing down. Unfortunately, this side wasn't exactly like the other side... In fact, there was only one crate he could really jump on and that crate was far below. He could feel his heartbeat quickening once more as he glanced around. Looks like he'd have to jump his way down. There were, after all, other crates nearby. First, he'd have to go to the right. He pushed himself up and carefully walked across his high platform, careful not to make any slip whatsoever. Once at the edge, he surveyed just how much of a difference was between him and his next step. His mind was quick in doing this and he backed up only a step before he boldly pushed himself off of his safety. He could see that he was growing closer to it and braced himself, his feet loudly thumping against the wood. He let out a yell as the wood gave way underneath his right foot, plunging it deep within the box. His left knee painfully crashed into the wood just next to him and he grunted, digging his short fingernails into the box to avoid letting out another yell that would surely alert others. He glanced over at the figure again before he allowed his eyes to quickly scan the room. Still no sign. However, he could now hear voices. His stomach twisted nervously and he yanked his foot out of the crate's clutches. As he did this, he could feel the wood painfully scrape across his calf, no doubt leaving deep scratches in its wake.

He couldn't waste anymore time. He knew that the men most likely figured out his location. He spun around and, as he grabbed his bag in one hand, sprinted for his next step. He ignored the pain that shot through his leg as he pushed off of the crate, sailing through the air and to the next crate. This time, he landed on his hands and knees, biting his lip in order to not cry out. Damn, this hurt a lot more than he thought it would. Still, he forced himself to stand and bolted for the next step. Due to the fact that he had given himself very little time to think, he had misjudged the distance between here and the next crate. His eyes widened as he realized this too late, his toe clipping the opposite edge of the last crate. He braced himself for the impact, covering his head as he crashed into the cement floor below. His whole body ached as he slid to a halt and he couldn't even control the trembling that followed. His breath shook as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, his ears ringing. Once that ringing had subsided, eh could hear shouts. They were close now.

Adrenaline forcing him to forget about his pain, he pushed himself to his feet and his eyes scanned the area around him. The only way out now was the large door. But how could he get that open without them realizing it was him? His breath hitched and his thoughts halted as the lights overhead suddenly flickered on, lighting up the whole entire room. He could hear people at the doors, but all that was forgotten as his eyes landed on what was previously just a shadowy figure cloaked by the darkness of the room. There before him was something he had never seen in his life. He could tell by the massive wings and the thick body that this was no ordinary animal. In fact, it seemed like something completely out of a fairy tale. The wings were webbed, the legs short and thick, the feet adorning large claws, the neck just as thick and short as the legs, the tail... the boy felt like he could faint at any moment. This thing in front of him... It was... Images flashed through his head of what he had seen in his dream only the night before. Along with those images, words he had never spoken formed within his mind.

_"I did it! This fixes everything!"_

_"I'm gonna cut out your heart and give it to my father."_

_"I'm a viking. I'm a VIKING!"_

_"I did this..."_

_"I'm gonna kill you, dragon."_

Dragon... The word repeated in his head as his shaking hand instinctively wandered towards his knife. His feet remained glued to the ground as his eyes once again examined what was in front of him. It couldn't possibly be on the other side, could it? No, it was tied up. There were professional knots everywhere. It was made to keep it there. Not only that, but there were large cuts and scrapes here and there. It even looked as if it was malnourished. Then again, he couldn't even tell if it was. Maybe it just naturally looked this way. Wait, no, no... "This can't be real," he found himself thinking out loud as his feet finally decided they would move. He stumbled back away from the beast before him, but could only manage a few steps before he could hear heavy metal scraping against cement. One glance towards the door told him that they were opening. Well, he supposed that if either of them were going to make it out alive, then it'd have to be rarer of the two, right? One part of his mind screamed that this should all just be a dream, but the other part of his mind told him that this was indeed real. He should've seen the hints, anyway... What other creature could make that sound and have that type of silhouette? He pushed all thoughts aside and allowed his instincts to completely take over his reasoning. He lowered to his knees beside the beast and drew out his knife, unfolding it and sawing at the ropes. He glanced towards the doors to see that they had stopped being opened, but there were shouts of how someone had found him. And that he was with the dragon. So this thing truly _was_ a dragon. Or at least, that was what the men were calling it.

His mind and body were completely numb as he sliced through the ropes with ease. Wow, this was certainly a lot easier than it had been in the dream. Then again, he had sharpened his knife not too long ago and hardly ever used it. It wasn't long before the final rope gave way, releasing the beast from its bindings. However, it was around the exact same time that the doors had been fully opened and the men were rushing in to capture both him and he supposed the dragon. There were only about ten of them, but they were all easily twice his size. He definitely couldn't take them on... His eyes looked to his side to see that the dragon had disappeared and at first, he thought that it was truly a dream. But upon looking back at the men, he could see a dark form soar over their heads and out the door. He would have followed, but as soon as the tail had disappeared, he felt hands grab at his arms. He began to struggle against his captors, trying his best to punch and kick anyone who came near. He began to shout in order to look even more intimidating than what he truly was (which he knew for a fact he wasn't at all), but he was silenced by a gut that drove into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He recoiled and tried his best to curl up, coughing a bit as his breath came back to him. On top of everything else, that seriously hurt...

"Think you could get away?"

He looked up as he heard the voice, his eyes landing on the same man who had supposedly helped him. He gritted his teeth and began to tug his arms once more. Still, he didn't answer the question and instead remained completely silent.

The man let out a deep sigh as his gaze moved to the pile of cut ropes. "So I see you let our dragon go. We were going to get quite some money off of him."

"So that thing was real?"

Sindri gave the captured boy a surprised look. It was almost as if he was asking him 'are you serious?'. Despite this, the look faded and he barked out a laugh. It took a moment for his laughter to die down and he shook his head, reaching forward to ruffle Hiccup's hair. However, as soon as his fingers met with the brown locks, his expression hardened and his fingers painfully twisted into them. "Yes, you insignificant little worm. That _thing_, that dragon you just let free, was just as real as the hair on your thick skull. We were going to make a fortune off of that thing and now it's gone. You think you can just waltz in here and then waltz back out? No." With that said, he pulled his hand away and took a few steps back, his arms at his sides. His brown eyes glanced around at the men holding his prisoner. "Do as you wish with him. Bury the remains somewhere. Better yet, feed him to Logi. I don't care what you do beforehand, just make sure to get rid of him."

His stomach twisted instantly, his eyes following the man as he walked out. No, no, no... He was too young to die, damnit! Once again, the teenager began to struggle against his captors. "Let me go!" he finally shouted, showing even more of his determination to be free once more. He should've known that the men wouldn't listen to him. He was, after all, small and weak. They were larger and stronger – and their grip on him proved it. Only another blow to his stomach and then his chest managed to 'talk' him out of struggling, trying his best to curl up once more. Pain shot up through his legs as he was shoved down to his knees, the sore kneecaps flaring with pain, just as they had before. His whole body trembled, his arms forced back to the point where he felt his shoulders would soon become dislocated. He could hear movement, but terror kept him from moving his head up even a centimeter. Then he heard it. A small click echoed through the room. A click that signaled a gun being cocked back, ready to fire within the simple pull of a trigger. He could only dip his head lower and close his eyes as tight as he could, as if it would make everything just... fade away. He couldn't even steady his breathing, no matter how much he willed himself to. A gunshot rang out through the night. His whole body grew numb. His breathing ceased.

_I don't wanna fade out_

_I don't wanna fade in_

_Like everything before_

**Author's note**: I'm sorry if the translations are wrong. I only speak English and am learning Japanese. I tried my best at making them accurate enough. Also, don't ask me what language it's in. It'll be revealed later, when Hiccup actually talks about it.


End file.
